


Like Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey

by anna_sun



Series: Like Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey [1]
Category: Hamilton - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Blowjobs, Humor, I hate myself, M/M, Modern AU, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, and have to play a couple, because i live for the cliche shit, but alex is like, hes kind of a dick, john is really in love with alex, theyre basically actors who hate each other, well youll see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:52:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6676711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_sun/pseuds/anna_sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>''Most people ran away when they heard your name. What can I say, I'm always up for a challenge, even when it comes in the form of pathetic, rich, and smug men with a superiority complex like you.'' Alexander isn't usually mean, but he has trouble controlling the flow of insults when it comes to Thomas Jefferson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to make a personal apology to Lin.  
> He didn't work 6 years on Hamilton for stuff like this to come into the world, Jesus Christ.  
> (Below lays porn about two American founding fathers. Fuck.)  
> (Title from Dirty dancing, in a way. Cause, famous actors who hated each other. Duh.)  
> (Warning for Alexander having really self destructive behavior?? If that's a thing.)
> 
> I was also asked to add a Trigger Warning for depressive content.

''Don't, baby, you know-'' There's a pause and Alex looks at the ceiling, knows what's coming next. ''You know I can't do this without you. I need, fuck.'' The words stutter just right around Jefferson's lips, and Alex hates himself for noticing it. ''I need you.'' 

He drops his bag on the floor, looks defeated.  

''I love you,'' he tries, knows it's not good enough as soon as the line leaves his mouth. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

''Cut!'' The word has an exasperate edge to it, and Alex swears under his breath right before Thomas decides to add even _more_ to their misery. 

''Jesus Christ, Hamilton,'' he says, emphasis on the last name, the arrogant piece of shit. ''You can't even act right, can you? I wonder why they decided to cast you in the first place.''

Fuck off, he wants to say. Instead, he comes up with,

''Most people ran away when they heard your name. What can I say, I'm always up for a challenge, even when it comes in the form of pathetic, rich, and smug actors with a superiority complex like you.'' Alexander isn't usually mean, but he has trouble controlling the flow of insults when it comes to Thomas Jefferson. Eliza calls it _lack of self control._

''Guys, guys, guys,'' the repeated word makes both their heads turn, knocking each other due to their proximity and the fast movement. Alex immediately takes a step back, mutters a _ow_ , brings a hand up to soothe the side of his head. He still takes pride in the ugly, twisted expression of Thomas' face, as he tries to ignore the pain and bring his own expression into a normal one. If that had happened with a friend, he would have laughed. Jefferson just happens to suck the happiness out of him, it seems. 

''We're all exhausted, will you, for the love of God, please stop the childish bickering and get this scene done?'' Martha asks. She worked so hard on this goddamn movie, Alex feels bad just looking at the bags under her tired eyes. He doesn't have the time but he knows it's got to be close to midnight, knows they should have been done for the day way before ten. The entire crew looks broken, like zombies on autopilot, getting back to their designed spot to film and light up a scene for the thousandth time tonight. That probably wouldn't even be pushing it.  

''Martha, I'm sorry,'' Thomas says, apology sounding fake to Alex's ears. ''We both know I wanna get this done as quickly as possible, too.'' _We both know I'm not the problem here_ , echoes back.

Alex feels like murder.  

Martha, thankfully, ignores him with a sigh. She turns back to her crew, angrily gestures at everyone to leave.  

''Wrap it up, guys. We'll just start early tomorrow.'' She turns back to the two of them. ''And you, goddamn you, where's the chemistry? Where did it go? Was I dreaming, the day you practically made love in front of me and delivered the lines like they'd been written for you two?''

Alex thinks back on that day, when he had to try out the scene where Jack flirts with Austin, gets him a drink, kisses him into a mess, with Thomas playing as Jack. Alex would have fallen on his knees right then and there for Jefferson. He thinks back on that night, couldn't believe he actually _had_ dropped to his knees _,_  mere moments afterwards, like a fucking whore. He'd given Thomas his mouth before he even had time to think about it. Lack of self control. 

''I hadn't had the _pleasure_  to get to know Thomas, back then.'' He spits, truth he knows rings sad into Martha's ears. Thomas just huffs, distantly flips him off. 

''Alex, you're not playing with Thomas, you're playing Austin, falling in love with Jack.'' She walks back to her chair, grabs her bag and shakes her head. ''I thought you were better than that.'' 

His ego takes the hit, even if a real dagger to the chest probably would have hurt less. 

-

Alex was on his way out, the studio empty of people at this point. He was ready to let himself sulk into his bed and stay there forever as he ignored the sharp pieces of his dreams that had just shattered right before him when he caught sight of Thomas shutting the lights of his room. He hadn't planned on saying anything more to the man, had just accepted his faith, _I thought you were better than that_ , a better person, a better actor, a better everything. Apparently he wasn't, because he let himself walk over to Thomas, let his angry shaking fists grab him by the collar. 

''Do you know how hard I worked to get here? How many letters I wrote, how many times I begged? How many auditions, how many rejections, how many fucking tears?'' He wasn't even ashamed to admit it, probably would be hypocritical of him, since some were falling on his cheeks right then. Jefferson didn't answer, and so he continued. ''I understand that you get everything handed to you on a goddamn silver platter, I get it, damn, I'm jealous of it. But because of your arrogance, your damn, constantly, shiny shoes and the way you treat people around here like they're your slaves, I'm done. Over.'' 

His fingers start to hurt, knuckles still white when he lets go of Thomas' now rumpled collar. He brings both sore hands to his face, pushes the few strays of hair away from it. 

''It's over,'' he repeats, more quietly, realization falling upon him. He'll never get another gig, Martha's sweet but she won't lie for him, she'll tell them Alexander Hamilton has maybe too much heart, is borderline unprofessional and cannot act in tough situations, such as when he hates the person he's acting with. People need actors who can adapt. Alex, apparently, just learned that he cannot.

He doesn't want to meet Jefferson's eyes, doesn't know if he should after what he just said. Still, he lifts his gaze up, looks at the other actor's face. Alex doesn't know if Thomas looks bored or confused, but he decides he's probably just in shock, until the man goes back into his room and gets out handing a box of tissues to him. 

''You're a mess,'' he says, and,

''Okay, yeah, thanks,'' is Alex's answer, because he didn't need a reminder, thank you very much. He turns his back with the box still in his hand, grabs a few and wipes his face before Thomas grabs his arm and stops him from getting any further away.

''Sorry, didn't mean to-,'' Thomas says, sighs mid sentence. ''I'm not very good with words.''

The confession isn't anything big, but it feels like a piece of himself Jefferson just gave away to him, like a step closer to something that could be more than hate.

''Okay,'' Alex doesn't find anything else to say. It's not every day you get an apology from the great, handsome and known Thomas Jefferson. ''It's fine. I'll just, yeah. I'll leave.''

He waits for Thomas to let go of his arm, looks at him and his hand repeatedly until he gets the hint and does.

''You could stay,'' Jefferson says as he fondles with his hands, and Alex can't help the laugh that escapes out of him. 

''Right,'' he says before finally turning his back for good and leaving. 

-

The next few weeks are hell on earth. Martha doesn't fire him, which is good, but that's probably only because she simply cannot afford to. He actually manages to get the ''I love you'' scene right, and it's not the best performance of his life, but it's enough that nobody screams Cut! in the middle of it, and he and Thomas kiss with some kind of passion behind it. The hell part comes in when the guy makes a show of wiping his mouth clean afterwards, laughs with the interns while consciously ignoring Alex's death stare. It's hell when Jefferson continues to be arrogant, self centered and just, all in all, a dick. Even after the breakdown Alex had right in front of him. Probably _because_ of the breakdown he had in front of him, Alex thinks.   

''Maybe he's just a kind and decent human being when its passed midnight. Like some kind of fucked up werewolf.'' He mocks the next part, voice low and Curse giving-like. '' _You shall always be a dick right until the sun comes down, when you'll probably always be alone and sad because you cannot make any type of friendship during the day_.'' 

Eliza laughs as she hands a now clean plate to Alex for him to dry. She doesn't like to make fun of people, but she gets into it too, just for the sake of Alex. 

'' _If it ever comes to the point where you're actually nice to somebody, well, you shall spent the rest of your days being a dick to them again, making everybody forget you are actually capable of human emotions._ '' 

Alex laughs, relieved to have Eliza at his side. She always managed to bring laughter out of him. He passes a cloth on the last glass before placing it on the shelf. Sharing a place with Eliza was easy, peaceful. Alex found himself glad he'd picked her instead of Laf or Hercules, where he knows he wouldn't have gotten any second to himself, or to peace. They'd laughed when he'd shared them the news, saying ''She'll make you do chores!'' and ''What about her _period_ ,'' with a horrified tone. Alexander had just brushed them off, saying Eliza was sweet and if it took chores and spending money on chocolate for him to live with her then well, so be it. 

''In other news,'' she says, wiping her wet hands on her jeans, and oh, Alex knew that voice. ''Have you talked to John?'' 

He groaned, tried to slap her with the tablecloth, to no avail. 

''Will you ever stop? No, I haven't, because he probably doesn't want to.'' She gave him a look, like a disapproving mom, and he walked away, straight to his bedroom. Of course, she followed. ''John is far too sweet. He probably knows damn well that I'd wreck him.'' He makes it sound like a joke, at least tries his hardest to. 

''John _is_ sweet,'' she agreed, letting her body rest against the door frame. Even with no makeup and her hair in the messiest bun, she looked gorgeous. ''But he's not too sweet. And maybe he wants to be wrecked. If you know what I-''

He stopped her right there, threw pillows at her face until she gave up and lifted her arms up in surrender. 

''Fine, Alexander, do whatever you want. It's your love life. Just know that we're in Hollywood, goddamn it. You are allowed to have fun. When's the last time you even brought someone ov-'' 

He took his last pillow in his right hand, ready to aim and shoot, but she took the hint and stopped talking before he had to. She left with a ''Goodnight'' on her lips, knowing she wouldn't want to bother him when he was working on his novel. 

''Goodnight,'' he said back, before getting to writing. 

-

''Have you read the updated script yet?'' Thomas asks as he barges in his designed room for the time of the shoot, no knocking or anything of the sort. Alex is too bothered to even answer the question, 

''You are not the fucking king of this place, especially not this,'' he points to his room, ''area. Please leave and don't come back unless you knock.'' 

Thomas laughs a bit but Alex is dead serious, and there's no smile on his face when he stares at the other man. Jefferson looks a bit taken aback, mutters ''You're a child, you know that,'' under his breath before closing the door behind him. Then, 

Knock knock. 

''Come in,'' Alex says after he took his damn time putting a shirt on. Annoyed is a good look on Thomas' face, Alex thinks. 

''Again, have you read the updated script?'' 

Alex looks at the papers on the corner of his desk, untouched until mere moments ago. He'd received the email from the writers yesterday, with a note saying something along the lines of ''Sorry, we weren't quite proud of the ending yet. We rewrote some of it, feel free to take your time reading this. It won't be touched until months from now.'' He'd printed the attached document almost immediately, but hadn't exactly had the time to read it until this morning. He wasn't even two sentences in. 

''No, not really, why?'' He asks, suspicious when Thomas' mouth turns into a grin, like he's happy to deliver the news. 

''We fuck. And then you die.'' 

The words hit low in Alex's stomach, and not exactly in a good way. He makes a good job of hiding it, though. He's an actor, after all. 

''Is that so? Well, sounds accurate, then.'' The suicide of his character isn't news to him. The fucking is, though. ''We fuck, and then I die. Can't see another way that could end.'' 

Thomas' face turns into something else entirely, his once smiling mouth clapping shut. Alex knows he's searching for a comeback, knows he can't find one. _I'm not good with words_ , finds its way into his brain. 

Maybe that was too harsh, Alex thinks, almost gets up to actually apologize when,

'' 'Could end with them hating each other.'' Alex is confused for a second right until, ''From what I know, you're not dead.'' 

It's silence for a moment, heavy and plain and _outrageous_. Alex, for once, doesn't know what to say. 

They hadn't brought it up since, and Alex didn't know why but his pride had been thankful for it. To take that out against him was a new low Alex didn't know Thomas was ready to hit. 

''Ah, so that's what it takes to shut you up.'' Thomas added, like a second punch to face as he walked closer. Alex walked backwards until his spine hit the wall, hated himself for the way his heartbeat quickened. 

''We never fucked,'' Alex feels like precising, ignoring Thomas' latest commentary. As if that made himself look better. 

Thomas was close enough that his breath was warming up the skin of his neck. _Fuck_.

''Indeed, we never.'' He surrounds him with arms stretched on both sides of his body, palms flat against the wall. He's not exactly at an arm's length, though, elbows bent just enough that he could shift and their mouths could meet. Alex can smell his damn expensive cologne, can see the details, every curve of his curls, the shiny now dried gel that went into it. Would he really dare? 

Alex doesn't know what Jefferson's waiting for, the man took the leap, there's no point in backing out now. Thomas' not shy, he knows his body, knows his charm and how to use it, knows it all too well. Alex knew he was attracted the second he walked through the door, and Alex knew he hated the man's brain as soon as he opened his mouth. 

He suddenly felt like glass, see through and weak and ready to break. His interest was clear, pants slightly tented, mouth agape and cheeks warm and red. He knew what he looked like, had seen it in the mirror far too often when he needed to compose himself, when his body reacted this way in public. This was so fucking wrong, this was Thomas, arrogant, self centered asshole,

''Do it,'' he spits out. ''C'mon, asshole, do you have the balls? C'mon, do it, do it, _do it_ ,'' Alexander feels like he's asking for a punch. He gets quite the opposite, when Thomas caves in and roughly kisses him. It's everything but sweet, Thomas is everything but sweet, and Alex moans into his mouth. 

They separate, and Alex's gasping for oxygen. 

''You have a mouth on you, you know that?'' Thomas says without any hint of fondness, just annoyance. Alex can't believe he's getting off on it. ''Always getting on my nerves, always judging and managing to _look down_ on me, even when you have to raise your eyes to look at mine.'' 

Thomas was all over him, practically covering his whole body, and their height difference had never been more obvious. Thomas occupies his hands by lifting up Alex's shirt, messing up the pony tail before grabbing and _tugging_ on his hair, kissing him like he's nothing but a rag doll begging to be manhandled. Alex rolls his hips into Thomas's, and the movement is reciprocated.

''Fuck,'' he swears, trying to concentrate on the feeling instead of the person giving it to him. It's been so long since someone even gave his body that much attention, and even if Jefferson's hands are far from gentle when he pushes him on his knees, Alexander manages to feel worshiped. The hands still playing in his hair hurt but it's _good_ , so good. 

Thomas knew what he was doing, he didn't even unbuckle Alex's pants. The pressure on his dick is already practically unbearable, and his body tries to find relief in the air before Thomas grabs his shoulders and stops him. 

Alex's hands immediately travel from the bottom of Thomas' legs to his hips before he unzips the jeans, even if his brain can't quite catch up, his hands know what they're doing. Thomas doesn't stop him, and when Alex looks up he finds Thomas quietly swearing to himself. Alex smiles. 

He, at least, has some sort of power in this whole thing. He takes Thomas' head into his mouth, gently sucks, and loses all power as soon as Thomas grabs both sides of his head, stops him from doing any bobbing and slowly eases himself into the warmth of his mouth. Alex could protest, hit him (his hands are free, after all), or even bite down and stop this whole affair. But he doesn't. Instead he just opens his mouth wider. 

''You're taking it so good, Alexander. Damn, look at you. I'd be ashamed.''

He knows how he must look, he can feel the spit starting to escape from his mouth, making a trail to his naked chest. He feels so exposed under Thomas' hungry eyes, and so he closes his own.

He starts to move his tongue across the foreign weight in his mouth, just a bit, just enough to make Jefferson swear, proof that the man isn't completely immune to Alex's talents. 

There's a pause, Thomas looking at him with something in his eyes, and Alex nods, answering to a question Thomas hadn't even asked yet. 

The other man groans, and like freed from chains, he starts moving. Fucks his mouth slow, at first, and Alex concentrates on his breathing, inhaling and exhaling from his nose, getting just enough oxygen. 

It wasn't his first time doing something of the sort, because closeted men in bar's bathrooms often hold a lot of anger in them. Alexander had been on both the receiving and giving end of that anger, and while every time it felt dirty it didn't feel like this.

Jefferson was something else. For all Jefferson knew, this could be his first time even having a dick in his mouth, _and he didn't fucking care_. 

Alex moaned at the thought and Thomas, unsettled, lost his rhythm, the vibration suddenly making him come down Alex's throat. 

He just took it. 

Thomas only backed away when he laid soft in Alex's mouth, put himself back in his pants and looked down at him as he zipped his pants back up. Alex let his ass fall on the heels of his feet, whole body feeling spent and tired. 

Thomas left, just like that. 

He came quick, ragged and sore in his own hand, with a cry. 

-

Alex had dreaded the next shoot, the next time he would have to look at Thomas in the eyes and pretend he hadn't let him push him to his knees so quick. He'd dreaded it so bad he'd almost confessed to Eliza, or even John, wanting any piece of advice he could get, practically had nightmares and found himself shaking, sitting in his bathtub with lukewarm water falling over him. 

Instead, he got through the first scene. And the second, and the third, amazingly well. Martha was on a cloud in heaven, because Alex suddenly just _had_ it. 

He didn't know why. His brain often had ways of surprising him, and this was one of them. 

-

''Alexander, mon ami!'' Laf said as soon as he entered the apartment, uninvited but with a large pizza in one hand, as a token of forgiveness, maybe. John followed soon behind him. 

''Um, hi?'' Alex said, standing there in his old sweatpants, grey and over sized sweater keeping him warm because _heat was expensive_ , damn it. His friends walked up the stairs quickly and Laf didn't waste one second to hug him, balancing the pizza in one hand before going to leave it on the kitchen table. John awkwardly hugged him too, and Alex could do nothing but gently pat him on the back. 

''We know for a fact your dear Eliza's out with Hercules, on a date, of all things. Thinking of you, alone in your freezing apartment with nothing but your pen to keep you company pained my heart.'' 

''It really did,'' John added, smiling, and Alex smiled too, thinking a candy probably belonged in that mouth of his. 

Laf was nice, he really tried, and if it wasn't for his random visits and texts, Alex wasn't sure their friendship would have lasted this long after college. He just wasn't the type to reach out, he was busy, he was this, he was that, everything but deserving of Lafayette and John's friendship. Love. 

''Guys, that's really nice, but huh...'' He stumbled over his own words, a first. 

''But huh what?'' John mocked, with no real bite behind the joke. ''Let's just watch a movie, drink, eat pizza. That okay?'' 

If John, at first, had wanted to sound like Alex didn't have a choice, he failed when he said the last two words. _That okay?_   It was, Alex thought. It really was. 

''Yeah, okay.'' 

The movie passed easily, plot interesting enough to grab his attention, pizza eaten quickly. He found himself strangely calm, sandwiched between Laf and John.

John tried to rest a hand on his thigh when his phone buzzed.

''Sorry,'' he said, looking at the foreign light in the dark room and frowning when he saw it was from an unknown number.

_Hey? Hamilton?_

''Be right back,'' he said, getting up and shaking his head at John when he made a move to grab the remote. ''Don't pause it for me. It's fine.'' 

_? Who are you?_

_Thomas._

Another buzz.

_Jefferson._

Alex looked at his phone in disbelief, suddenly wanting to throw the damn thing at the wall. 

_How did you get my number? That's kinda creepy._

He thought for a second.

_Like, really fucking creepy._

There was a moment of radio silence, not even three dots appearing at the bottom of the screen to show Jefferson was typing, and so Alex put his phone down on the kitchen counter and served himself a glass of water. He wasn't going to just wait around for him to answer, as if he had nothing better to fucking do. He walked back to the living room, asked if anyone wanted anything. Lafayette cheerfully answered ''A beer!'' and John just nonchalantly said ''Water's fine.'' while avoiding his gaze.  

Alex had just walked back to his kitchen when his phone lighted up again. He didn't even want to bother with the ''you gotta wait two minutes before answering otherwise you look eager'' bullshit. Which he definitely had done before (kind of hated himself for it, too).

 _Well, um, yeah, it kind of really is. Apologies. Do you mind?_  

Alexander looked at the screen. _Apologies_. He even sounded like a posh, annoying rich asshole via text. He quickly looked at the time : half an hour past midnight. He had to tell this shit to Eliza, he thought with a smile. She'd laugh her ass off. Maybe their fucked up werewolf theory wasn't so far off, after all. 

_Yes. What's up?_

Jefferson's answer came quick this time. 

 _We should run lines during the weekend. Script has some scenes I'd need to practice with you._  

This was... strange. Unlikely. Weird. 

 _''Some scenes''_   he typed back, mocking Thomas' really obvious way of doing whatever the hell it was he thought he was doing right now. _You're an asshole._ He quickly added. 

''Alexander, honey, when's that beer coming?'' Lafayette half-yelled from the living room, getting shushed down by John who was apparently really getting into that movie. 

He got no text back. 

 _Fuck this_ , he thought, and even if he'd wanted to he couldn't stop his fingers, now typing away at the screen. 

_Fine. Be at the studio Sunday, by 3._

Jefferson answered with a black thumbs up emoji. 

Alexander left his phone on the counter as he walked back to his friends, balancing a glass between his forearm and rib cage.

-

The fucker was late. 

Okay, it was only by 15 minutes right now, but the seconds kept coming up and Alex's patience grew thinner with each one of them. He told himself that, come 3h20, he was gone, and then it was Okay, 3h25, and then- 

And then the door opened, Jefferson walking in like he owned the place (he probably could), each step echoing in the big space. No one was here on a Sunday, but Alex and Jefferson had a key. Martha was just sweet and trusting like that. 

''Hamilton,'' Thomas says for a greeting, as if they were enemies on a dueling ground or some shit like that. 

''You're late,'' he answers as he jumps off the table he'd been sitting on, barely stopping himself from tapping his feet on the ground. 

''Yeah, got held up.'' 

Alex did nothing but look at him, hoping the man could see the anger in his stare, or even just the disgust. 

''I'm starting to regret this,'' Thomas whispered as he followed him to the main part of the studio, Austin's apartment. 

''Fuck off,'' Alex only said to that, before grabbing his script and waiting for Thomas to do the same. 

They practiced a couple lines after that, Thomas always finding ways to add his advice to Alex's acting, like _Maybe don't look at me like you want me to die_ and _It'd be nice if your body said 'I love you' more than 'Go to hell'.,_ as if that was easy for him to do. He just told him that was his default setting when he was around, but tried to relax his body nonetheless, tried to look at him like he was looking at Eliza or John or even Laf. People he loved, that made him feel good. Not people that reminded him that the world was ugly and unfair, or made him want to get bent over a desk and get fucked raw before-

He blushed deep red, not realizing his train of thoughts before it was too late. He coughed a couple times, and Thomas just looked all in all, confused. Didn't lift a single finger to help him through his coughing fit, though. 

''Thanks for the concern,'' he said when he got hold of himself, sarcasm obvious behind his words.

''You know I don't care,'' said Thomas, and oh. That was it. 

''Run those lines with your ass, fucking self centered prick.'' He let his script fall on the floor, ignored his obvious growing erection, _fuck, this is bad,_ and tried to walk away. 

Jefferson followed him until there was a wall he could push him onto. His blood was rushing, everywhere, nowhere, and he _knew_ what he was getting when he agreed to this practice bullshit. He knew it, even in his fucked up state of denial, and when Thomas kissed him he didn't make any move to stop him. His body, traitor to its own mind, spread his legs, welcomed him closer. 

''What gives you the _right_ -'' he was cut off by another kiss, with more force behind it. He still angrily muttered against his lips, ''Who do you think you are, you don't own me, you don't get to-'' 

He stops talking on his own, then. Grabs Thomas' ass, fuck, it was a great ass, created friction by pushing him against himself. This was unholy, sinful, everything he shouldn't be doing. 

Thomas falls to his knees, grabs Alexander's pants and pulls them off easily, boxer briefs and all. Alex moans when he's freed, cold air making him shiver.

First, he thinks Jefferson's about to suck him off, but then, the man takes his left thigh and brings it up, completely ignores his dick and gains access to something else entirely.

_Oh. That's good._

Thomas doesn't asks, he just takes, and Alex feels whole when his tongue brushes against him. It's a while of teasing, torturous teasing.

''Thomas, god, I want, I want your cock. Please.'' He loses every ounce of pride he once had, Thomas now one finger in, everything wet with spit. 

''What?'' Jefferson asks, surprised. Maybe he thought he'd never hear Alexander Hamilton beg in his life. 

''Fuck me. Just do it, fuck me.''

Thomas' face suddenly falls neutral, as he slowly takes his finger out of him. The loss is small but almost painful, and Alex groans. 

''Alexander, for the love of God, I am not fucking you dry.'' He says, and there's no judgement in his voice but Alex still feels it deep in his core.

It takes a moment, but he snaps. 

''Then get off me,'' he says, first quiet before repeating it louder when Thomas doesn't move. ''Get off me. Get off!'' 

He looks taken aback when he steps away and gives him space. 

''Alex, this is absurd, I-'' 

He stays put, back against the wall, tries to control his breathing.   

''I thought you didn't care,'' he admits, hates himself for the way his voice trembles. He shouldn't be ashamed. ''You don't care. So why not?'' 

Thomas takes a deep breath, almost looks human for a second, before saying, 

''Maybe I just don't get off on tearing you open and getting blood on my dick.'' It's so nonchalant, and Alex knows he must look ridiculous right now, still naked from the waist down, and so he takes the time to cover himself. It's awkward, suddenly.  

''Okay,'' he says. ''That's fair.'' 

There's a pause before he adds,

''Let me suck you off, then.'' 

-

Weeks go by fast after that, and Alex buries his body and soul into work and his novel. He's almost done, can practically taste the end, probably just like Martha with the movie. In about three months it'll be done, over with it, and Alex is glad but he knows he'll miss the steady paycheck. 

He won't miss anything else, though.

Well.

His encounters with Thomas gradually started getting more frequent, in the bathroom during a break or after a full day of filming, when Alex's body is begging for him to rest and yet he doesn't listen. He just pushes, pushes past his limits, both literal and psychological. They haven't fucked yet, mostly just oral, always dancing the same dance. Alexander on his knees, mouth getting fucked, and sometimes he'll get a couple slaps, if Jefferson's feeling generous. Sometimes, he'll get to take the lead, if Jefferson's feeling tired. If Jefferson's feeling this or that, it all falls on that, and that's good. Alex likes to be completely freed of responsibilities, he just has one goal, when he's with Thomas. His brain stops working a hundred miles per hour. That's nice. 

But. 

His body starts craving for more. He wants Thomas to _really_ use him, to his whole fucking potential. 

So he starts carrying lube with him pretty much everywhere he goes. Maybe soon. 

-

Martha's crying, glass of champagne in one hand and flowers in the other, some petals falling to the floor because she's just shaking that hard. Everybody's smiling though, even her through the tears, and they were all pretty fucking proud.

They're done. They filmed the last scene today, and Alex goes to fetch some champagne for himself. He damn well deserves it. 

''You guys, I couldn't have asked for a better crew.'' She says, ''Thank you so much for all the work you put into this. I can't wait for the whole world to see it.''

They all raised a glass, and people were starting to walk away when she yelled, 

''Celebration party at my place Friday night! Y'all better come.'' 

-

He begs Eliza to come with him, she's the perfect date to this kind of thing, pretty and social and just feels right by his side. She'll know how to make him feel at ease, and he expects her to be thrilled at the idea of dressing up and meeting ''important people'', but she isn't. She laughs, fakes puking and says she has better things to do than looking pretty for people she doesn't care about, like going out with Hercules, sorry Alexander. He says she's a bad, bad, friend, and turns to Lafayette. The french asshole pretends to be offended at being second best, and fine, Alex says.

He'll call John. He pretends he doesn't see the pair high five behind him. 

''Nothing's ever going to happen, you guys. He's sweet. It'll be a nice night out, maybe he'll even stop me from doing the stupid shit I do when I'm drunk. But it's never going to happen.'' He says, dialing the phone number and pretending he can't practically _hear_ John's blush through the phone. 

-

Actors are, most often than not, full of shit. Fake pride and arrogance runs through their veins, the women in shiny, expensive dresses they wouldn't dare wear again, going back to a shitty apartment with empty stomachs they can't fill. It's all just so... Hollywood. Alex can taste it in the air, when he enters Martha's place, John clinging to his arm like he'll drown if he doesn't. 

''Hey, it's fine. They're all assholes, but they're fake assholes. They won't be mean to you directly in your face. You're fine.'' John's smile is tight, forced, and Alex thinks that if he was someone else he'd kiss it better, somehow. 

He just pats John on the arm and takes his arm back to himself. 

The night goes on easily, Alex introducing John to people, _Yes, he's a singer, and a goddamn good one at that,_ and _No, we're not getting married_  , and _That's funny, you're funny, now let us go back to a corner and pretend this boring conversation never actually happened._

At least the music's nice, and Martha looks happy, dancing with anyone she can get her hands on. Alex even spots her groping a few gentlemen, and perhaps she's had too much to drink. He looks at her and smiles, John laughing way too close to him at the sight. 

''She's something, right?'' A voice says from behind them, and Alex turns around to- Is that a fucking purple blazer? 

''Thomas,'' He says, hand falling at his side, trying to ignore the man's flashy outfit. For some reason it doesn't feel that out of place, like Jefferson knows exactly what kind of flashy is right for this kind of event. There's a pause, awkward silence falling over them, before Alex recovers and makes a shitty introduction. ''Um, this is John.'' His hand does a weird waving gesture at his side, referring to, well, John. 

John smiles like he always does, all bright teeth and round cheeks, completely ignores Alex's awkwardness, shakes Thomas' hand like he's someone important and says 'Hi, pleasure to meet you'. The kid was made for this. 

Alex looks down, lets them have their conversation. The air around him isn't foggy but it feels like it, like the room's spinning, especially when he meets Thomas' eyes again. How many sips did he take already? His glass isn't even half empty, this must be some really strong stuff, disguised under a ton of sugar, he decides. Girly drinks destined for the youth. God knows that's what John would pick. 

He shakes his head. He's a complete asshole, even in his own head. 

Somewhere, far away from the safety of his own thoughts, he hears someone say his name.  

''Sorry, what?'' He looks ridiculous, out of place, and this is a party to celebrate the end of the movie he fucking stars in. Why is everything so blurry, again? 

''What do you think of Martha's house?'' John asks, smiling at him like his state of confusion his cute, and oh, 

''It's fine, I guess. I like,'' He pauses, looks around. ''I like the floors.'' 

John, for some unknown reason, seems satisfied with the halfhearted answer, but Alex doesn't miss Jefferson's lips curling around his cup. _He's laughing._  

Alex downs his drink in one go. 

''John, would you please fetch me another one of these? It's really good.'' John's unsettled for a moment but he recovers quickly, jokes about how he doesn't want to have to carry him back to his place at the end of the night, whatever, and leaves with an empty cup in his hand to bring back full. 

''He's nice,'' Jefferson says, mocking, and Alex plays the game. 

''He is,'' He says. ''Would be a really great boyfriend, actually.'' 

Thomas nods, looks behind him to see John walking away, fucking _checks him out_. Alex's glad he doesn't have a glass in his hand anymore, because it would probably have shattered to pieces. 

''I bet,'' Jefferson says when he turns back around to smile at him. It's unfair, that fucking smile, fucking stubble and that fucking hair. How can a man look that attractive in a goddamn purple, velvety red blazer? 

''That's not what you want, though.'' He adds. 

 _How the hell do you know what I want?_ He thinks, and says so. 

''I know because I've heard you beg for what you want,'' Thomas whispers, barely audible over the music as he takes a step closer. ''You want someone who doesn't treat you like you're about to break, who doesn't know you're fragile, _who doesn't care._ '' The last words are said right to his earlobe. Thomas licks at it. 

Alex's heart is pretty much is in throat, and he's incapable of words. So Jefferson continues the torture. 

''You want it rough, baby. That boy can't do rough.'' 

And just like that, Jefferson's body his away from his own, like a breath of fresh air, and the man walks his way up the stairs, winks at him right before disappearing.  

He fucks John for the first time that night, hard, messy and quick. He barely manages to get him off. John still, somehow, falls asleep smiling onto his pillow.

-

John's good. He bakes cookies in the middle of the night and gives random hugs, washes Alex's hair in the shower just because he feels like it, is actually, surprisingly, pretty great at sucking dick. John's good. He's good. Everyone's thrilled, Eliza makes them go on double dates. It's good, it's nice. 

It really is. 

- 

Self control is an art Alexander never learned. He knows the basics of it, knows that he can and should say no, but for some reason, his lips always fail to do so and bring out Yes, yes yes into the world, instead. No matter how much he can deny what he wants, he's see through. And once the truth is out there, well, most often than not, he'll fail to see any reason to persist the denial.

''C'mon, Alexander, you can do better than that.'' Thomas says, grabs his hips with both hands and helps him pick up the pace. Alex's on top, for once, but he's not totally in control. He's just, doing what's asked of him. 

Thomas's fingers dig into the slight fat that hangs at his sides, and where he should be ashamed, he's not. His body is merely a shell when he's getting fucked like that, especially by Jefferson. 

He rides more fiercely, now, knows they're both getting close. There's no need or want to make this last, and so Alex lets himself lose the rhythm before he's coming on Thomas' stomach. It doesn't take much, after that, for the other man to follow.

He lets himself fall next to him, feeling grossed and used and _good_. That's usually when Thomas gets off the bed, cleans up a bit and leaves without any trace of him ever being there. 

''When are you going to break up with him?'' Thomas asks out of nowhere, laying naked in all his glory after removing the condom, not making any sign that he's moving any time soon. 

Alexander's quite surprised with the question but he doesn't let it show, 

''What? For you?'' He laughs. He grabs some baby wipes from his bedside table, hands a few to Thomas, because it's just weird to watch his come drying on the guy after the whole thing's over.  

Jefferson laughs too, barely, before he swallows and says, 

''Nah,'' The word is innocent enough. ''I'm actually leaving for France in like, a week. Got a nice gig over there. Tv show.'' 

Alexander just stares at him. 

''Do you even speak french?'' 

Jefferson laughs, shakes his head at the ceiling. 

''Not even one bit. Guess I'll have to learn.'' 

It's a punch in the gut, in a way. Because yeah, Thomas is talented, there's no denying that, but the guy doesn't even speak french and he's got himself a gig in France, just like that. Alexander still hadn't gotten any news from any auditions he'd done since The Normal Heart, which hadn't been that much of a success. Except for all the teenage girls who went to see Jefferson's face on the big screen, nobody really talked about it.  

Everything handed to him on a goddamn silver platter. That would always be it, while Alex was a thousand steps behind him, picking up his shit and getting nothing in return. 

He gets off the bed, puts his clothes back on. 

''That's good for you then. I have stuff to do, now.'' 

Thomas' eyebrows are furrowed, like he doesn't understand what went wrong, and Alex is just too tired to fight. He leaves him naked in his bedroom, goes to serve himself a glass of water. 

It's a while before Thomas finds him in the kitchen, and he's all dressed and ready to go. Alex thinks he should wave goodbye or something, but right as he's about to do so, Jefferson walks right in his personal space, gently grabs his face, and kisses him. 

It's nothing like the usual, it isn't rough and rushed, it's soft lips gently pressing on his own. Alex is too startled to kiss back, he just widens his eyes, probably looks _terrified_ when Jefferson backs away and smiles at him. 

''It was nice knowing you, Alexander.'' 

_Fucking asshole._

**Author's Note:**

> I ate many bowls of Frosted Flakes while writing this. I don't even know.
> 
> Kudos and comments are soooooooo appreciated. This is my first time in this fandom (and my first time /really/ writing explicit stuff.)
> 
> Find me on tumblr ; featdean


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